The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (152 page)

“Can I help you?” a deep voice asked.

I turned, seeing a man a few years younger than I staring at me. His eyes were scanning me, his brows raised in question. I stood taller, saying, “I’m looking for Francesca.”

“She’s not here yet. May I ask who you are?” he looked quizzical, like his mind was trying to place me.

“I’m Cade Kelling. She represented me a few months ago,” I said proudly.

He grinned, nodding. “I know who you are. Go wait for her in her office, if you want. She’ll be thrilled to see you,” he said, pointing in the direction he wanted me to go.

I turned, then glanced at him, “Hey, don’t tell her I’m here, please. I want to surprise her,” I explained.

He smiled widely, his eyes dancing with joy agreement. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I slid in her office, taking in the professionalism of it all, but still seeing hints of her personality decorating the room. I eased my body into her chair, spinning it to face the window. I didn’t want her to see me when she came in the building. I waited for what felt like forever, daydreaming about her voice, her gaze, her lips, until finally I heard the bell ding and her melodic, soothing words filling my head.

“Hey, Zander! Thank you so much for coming early. I have to get this stuff ready and organized in my office before people start arriving,” she told him.

Her shoe clicked on the floor as she walked across to her door, and when I knew they were close, I turned the chair around to face her. Eyes wide, mouth open, and in shock, she said, “Cade.”

All I could do was grin back.

C
ade’s smiling face stared at me, watching my every move. The papers I’d been holding fell quickly to the floor, landing in every direction and under furniture. I couldn’t move. He was here, dressed in a tuxedo, and looking extremely happy and healthy.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, standing and walking around the desk.

“Cade, what are you doing here?” I stammered. “I thought...I mean...Reid said...your letters....” I rambled on. My mind hadn’t quite wrapped itself around the fact that the man I loved was here with me and looked like he still loved me, too.

“I’m an outpatient now. All those times you were talking to Reid he came back and talked to me. We figured out the release was the day before, so we hid it from you so I could surprise you and be here,” he explained, carefully making his way to me. He stopped inches from me. “Do I get a hug?” he whispered.

I threw my body to his, feeling his strong arms completely engulf me. His hot breath was on my neck, his fingers gripping my sides. “I missed you,” I mumbled into his shoulder.

“I missed you more,” he chuckled.

His fingers locked in my hair, guiding my head back, and his mouth crushed mine. My head was dizzy from him lips moving with mine, our breath mingling and tongues exploring. Every inch of my being was on fire, wanting Cade like never before. I snaked my hands up and down his arms, finally looping them around his neck and digging my fingers into his skin. He groaned, pushing my body back until I was against the wall beside the entrance to my office. His hands explored, grasping my wrists and holding them tightly as he pressed his full, hard body completely against mine. Moaning, I leaned my head up, lips parted waiting for him.

“You’re so gorgeous, Francesca,” he huskily muttered in my ear. Chills ran the length of my spine.

“Cade, I think you’re even more handsome than you were when I last saw you,” I replied, hearing the desire oozing out of my voice.

His lips found mine again, kissing me more gently this time, then leaned and locked his forehead to mine. “I have to ask you a favor,” he said, his expression gleeful.

“Anything for you, Cade,” I replied, giving him a sexy grin.

He pulled back, his face registering my words. “Those are my words,” he accused.

“I stole them. What’s the favor?” I asked.

He glanced me over, giving me a small wink, and dropped to one knee. My body began to shake, my heart beating in overdrive. His hand slipped into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out something I couldn’t quite see.

“Francesca Taymon, the love of my life, you are more than I ever deserved and everything I hope to be. I can’t live without you, nor do I want to. I know being with me has never been easy, but I’m going to make it up to you. From this day on, I will be there for you, support you, help you, love you, and desire you. I need you to become my wife. I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you every night before I go to dream of you, or every morning before I start my day. I couldn’t have gotten through these past few months without you. I know how badly I’ve screwed up in the past and it helped me to become a better man. You make me a better man. You’re the most beautiful, wonderful, brilliant, and sexy woman I’ve ever come in contact with and I would be so honored if you would be my wife.”

The tears fell freely from my eyes, my hands shaking in excitement. I couldn’t speak through my sobs, so I just nodded quickly over and over. He jumped to his feet, grabbing me and swinging me around. He planted kisses all over my face, then I slid to my feet, giving him a sly grin. Holding my left hand out, I watched in delight as he took out a very large, beautiful diamond ring. He slid it on my finger, his gaze penetrating my soul as he did.

“I love you, Francesca,” he said, taking my lips in his. He kissed me until I was feverish and lightheaded, only stopping so we could catch our breath.

“I love you, Cade,” I whispered, smiling at him widely. “I want to take you back to my place and do every naughty thing I can think of, but we have to get through this party first,” I groaned, rubbing my hands all over his hard chest.

He sucked his breath in sharply, closing his eyes for a moment. “Anything for you, Francesca,” he moaned, pressing full, red lips to mine.

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Chapter 1

O
n the day I went to die, I didn’t leave a note.

Don’t get me wrong, I had written plenty. One rough draft after another found itself in the garbage; however, after a while I thought the entire ritual itself was cliché, basked in the glory of teenage angst. And being all of twenty years old now, I felt too old for the stereotypes of crying during sad songs and mulling over suicide notes.

Still, I had made a last ditch effort to scribble something out. It too, however, ended up in the paper shredder. This time, it wasn’t just because I found a grammatical error in my drafts or even a few, for that matter. Ultimately, when it came down to it, I couldn’t find the right thing to say, the words to make my act sound justified without being too pathetic.

I couldn’t find the right excuse.

Maybe it also didn’t help that I knew there would be no one around to read it.

In all fairness, I had gone to some decent lengths to make sure no one would even know I was gone—not for a while, anyway. It wasn’t exactly a rare occasion that Mom and Dad were out of town at the same time. Though they didn’t exactly make it a secret, either, that they both their planned work trips to avoid one another. But to have both of them gone on the same weekend was an ideal situation that didn’t occur often.

It was already after midnight when I switched from my pajamas into my jeans and a light sweater. It seemed silly, but I went ahead and put on the wool peacoat Mom got me for Christmas. It was itchy and way too flamboyant for my taste, but that didn’t stop Mom from buying it for me anyway—or the furry boots that seemed to go with it. I thought they looked like they were made from a couple of Ewoks, but I put them on, too.

Maybe that was
my
equivalent of a note—my way of apologizing.

After I got changed, I pulled my hair up high, not bothering to smooth out the bumps or

detangling the knots that came with it. Even before my hands were finished with the ponytail, my dark locks were a mess. But I didn’t care—or at least I didn’t want to care. I wasn’t shallow enough to think that it somehow still mattered—especially considering what I would look like when they found me. For an instant the ghoulish image made me smile. Looking in the mirror, I vaguely wondered if the pooled blood around my head could possibly make my hair any darker. Would my brown eyes glaze over after I was gone? Or pop out on impact? Certainly, an open casket would be out of the question.

I glanced at the drawer of unopened make up Mom had gotten for me over the years and slammed it shut. Would they leave my room the same afterward? A shrine to show what good parents they were? Or would they transform it into something else as soon as the wake was over? Using the excuse that they
needed
to move on. My eyes moved to the corner without even thinking about it. Suddenly, it was incredibly easy to picture an elliptical machine there, a stack of unused yoga mats and dusty dumbbells in the spot where my bed now was. How long would they wait until they remodeled? A month? A year?

I decided on the flight from the overpass on Port Elizabeth Street, surprised by how well the location turned out to work in my favor. Was it a sign that my plan fell so perfectly into place? Maybe not. But it sure as hell made it a lot easier to follow through with.

The Port Elizabeth Street consisted of a single-lane overpass, with a busy four lane highway beneath it. While it wasn’t a pretty way to die, at least this way I was guaranteed a contingency plan. If somehow the 100-foot drop to the pavement didn’t kill me, I had to figure a passing vehicle going 80 miles an hour or so would.

Since my tactical idea was to go head first, I made sure my driver’s license was secured in the pocket of my jeans before leaving home for the last time. I did this along with making sure my car was safely off the overpass—no sense in holding up traffic any more than necessary. Like having a piece of identification on me, I wanted to make things as easy as possible for everyone else. After all, just because I was going to die didn’t mean I had to ruin everyone else’s weekend.

Just like Mom remodeling my previous living quarters, it was all too plain to see some

coroner in the morgue trying to put my face back together while some poor intern filled out the Jane Doe paperwork. Meanwhile, traffic cops below and above would have to direct cars around blood splatter and skull pieces, while others waited for the tow to come for my Subaru. When a couple of state troopers solemnly knocked on the front door of my house, how long would they stand there before they realized no one was home?

I left my keys by one of my front tires and glanced up at the medical office. I was almost certain that they were closed on Sundays and probably only open for a few hours on Saturday, so if anybody thought anything of my car, it probably wouldn’t be until Monday morning. By then, Dad would be grabbing a ride home from the airport, and Mom would be checking out of her hotel. If everything and everyone stayed on schedule, they could find out about me together. And who knew? Maybe bonding over the “tragedy” would help their marriage—Christ knew that aspect of their life couldn’t get any worse. Maybe they could cry together. They could “reconnect” over the charity they’d start in my name, start having a weekly date night with the support group as the feature event...

Despite the little jokes I made to myself, I walked slowly from my car to the overpass, kicking random pebbles at my feet until I was out of the parking lot and well down the street. I rounded the corner and felt the weight of my heavy ponytail shift back and forth. The only time I did stop was when I realized that I hadn’t thought to hesitate at all or even once reconsider my choice. I had wanted to die for so long that anything else was just a fictional possibility—an alternative ending in the DVD extras. Sure, I could think about other options all I wanted, watch a happy ending over and over in my head, but it would never be real—death, however, was as real as it gets.

I looked back but couldn’t see the Subaru anymore. I had traveled too far to even see it with squinting eyes but didn’t feel as bad about it as I thought I might have when daydreaming about it originally. Instead, I felt nothing, no sadness like you always see in the movies or music videos but no relief like I had hoped, either. Alternatively, there was a weird sort of indifference that kept me even-keeled, apathetic to my own forthcoming demise. It was as if I weren’t even the one experiencing it—like I wasn’t even the one about to cause it.

I watched while the road evolved from one of pavement to that of matted stone. Though there was a toll on the new road, the condition of the street that led up and past Old Port Elizabeth made sure almost no one used the elderly overpass anymore. Those who did were usually tourists who didn’t know better and ended up hitting a deer or bottoming out in a pothole for their trouble. How many times had Dad lectured me about taking that same road when I first got my license? How many times had I heard Mom curse about the dropped calls there?

Once the gates of the overpass came into view I didn’t feel as indifferent as I had just a moment ago, invisible boulders found their way to my stomach and made me feel heavy. Right away, I noticed how my imaginary stomach rocks didn’t hurt exactly, just gave off this strange sensation of holding me down. I kept on walking, strangely encouraged by the combination of mass and indifference. The feeling in my stomach, however, did invite a memory of a gangster movie, where the feet of a snitch were plastered in cement before being dropped into an angry river. If it had been a happier memory, I might have smiled.

Then, just like that, I wanted my last smile. I wanted to remember the last real smile I had smiled or at least the last occasion I had felt anything to smile about. Sure, there had been plenty of pretend smiles, the ones for Mom and Dad, and all the ones for customers at the bakery, a professor’s bad jokes... but when was the last time I had genuinely smiled for anything?